YO! This is Zero101. I decided that this pairing need more love. I know it's an odd pairing and the two really don't have much contact, but I (for some reason) love this pair. So here ya go.
And for those who dig DirkGam, you are well loved. Please review and leave comments with ideas and imputs. Much appreciated.
- Your name is Dirk Strider.
Sitting on the couch, Dirk waited for his little brother and his friend to arrive. Apparently, the angry teen wanted them to meet his friend that had recently been all over the news for his graffeti. Of course, no one knew of the identity of the artist, only that the person leaves a emoticon somewhere on their piece.
Needless to say, he was honestly interested in meeting whoever was leaving their mark everywhere in the city. From children running underwater with whales, tovines and foilage covering a whole building that had been condemned. Dirk was almost anxious tosee what they'd come up with next.
His favorite though was probably theone about the horoscopes in full detail following the length ofthe wall by the public library.
Dirk leaned back, running a hand through his hair. Maybe they'd be interested in a job...since Mike just quit, we're short handed. It'd be nice to not have to be there all the time. Sleeping in the attic.
He reached over for the remote, changing over to the news to see if there was an update to the tagger. He wasn't surprised that there wasn't. Whoever's been doing the art always seem to space it out every few weeks in the almost three years since they've begun.
The last one was painted on the ground by the aquarium, appearing to be a pit filled with water, marine life swimming sround in the confines. He remembered walking by and seeing little kids trying to reach into the water for the fish. It was pretty realistic, so he wasn't surprised by the kids confusion when their fingers met the sidewalk.
Which lead to the thought of Dave being little again, if he would do the same thing. He blushed as people turned to stare as he started laughing at the image. Nearly 'awwwing' at the image, he left before making a bigger full of himself. Oh well, Dave used to be cute.
Now Dave only did cute things around that foul mouthed, shorty he hangs out with all the time. Much to Dirk's disappointment. Now he had to find his own amusement. He sighed, leaning his head back. "What happened to the cute lil' brother who followed me around in hero worship; demanding love, doritos and apple juice with awesome shades?"
Oh, yeah. He grew up to be a massive douche. Still demanding cheesy snacks and juice with less awesome shades. Following a little runt with permenant PMS, with a bizarre god complex. He glanced from the tv to the clock. Where the hell are those fucking brats anyway?
"If whoever this guys' art wasn't so goodm I wouldn't be hanging out here. I have a life. I'm 27 years old, I have shit I could be doing other than waiting for Dave and his pissy friend who talks way too much."
"If talking to yourself is part of your exciting life, then you muct have a loaded schedule."
Dirk sat up, not caring that he'd been caught. He's been known to monologing to himself when he was irritated or working on one of his robotics. "Like you're one to talk, lil' man." He turned over the couch, half leaning against the back. He watched as Dave and his friend, Karkat (aka Angry, pissed off brat), frowning. "What the hell took you two so long. It's already...uh..." He glanced over at the clock again. "...after nine. I do work tomorrow."
Karkat snorted, shifting his bag higher up his shoulder. "Well, that fuckass clown doesn't get good and going until around this time. And I am not 'pissy'!"
His little bro and Karkat made an interesting picture when they stood side-by-side like that. Dave, 5.10 and fair complexed and blond hair while Karkat probably only reached 5.4 with near black locks and darkened skin. Though the both shared the same red eyes, they couldn't be any more different. That excluding their messed up personalities.
Dirk adjusted his shades. "So, who exactly are we meeting, Shorty?"
The brunette staggered in his fury. "What the ever loving fuck did you just call me? I, who has taken the time out of my life to show you the gut who you've been obsessing over like a creepy ass fuckass that you are, am NOT short. You're just a freakishly tall moron who apparently has nothing better to do with your life except to sit on your ass and draw on other morons."
He blinked. "I swear, Karkat. One day I'll understand the things you say and do a better job at caring." Dirk ignored the other sputtered as he stood up. "Now, let's meet out graffeti guy. You got me curious as fuck about 'em."
Dave crossed his arms. "Well, aren't your panties in a wad over this shit. I eamn, what the is the big deal about this guy?"
"Don't be trying to act cool about this. You flipped your shit over that timepiece work over at the bank. You loved the irony of it and snapped pictures and everything." He patted Dave's head, making his way to the door. "Let's go, kiddies. I don't wanna be out all night."
Karkat snorted. "Old man."
"No. I have a job. Not something you'd know about. And don't you have to work in the morning, lil man? Don't be expecting me to wake your ass up."
His bro groaned, running a hand through his blond locks. "Karkat, please. Let's just go and meet the guy. I'm already tired and we haven't even done anything yet."
The other threw his arms up. "Finally, listening to you two fuckasses is giving my a fucking mygraine."
"Dirk."
"Yeah, lil man?" He turned his head as he zipped up his jacket.
"Is that Rainbow Dash on your jacket?"
"Don't be making fun of Rainbow Dash or I may have to hurt you." He made his way to Karkat's beatup grey pinto that had more than its fair share of dents and scratches and took his spot in the back, knowing Dave would want to sit by Crabby.
- Your name is Dave Strider.
"You're brother is weird as fuck, Strider. I hope to your god that you know that." Karkat stated, glancing over at him from the corner of his eye, brow furrowed.
He shrugged. "Could be worse, I guess. At least it's ironic."
"There is nothing ironic about your brother."
They watched as Dirk roll the window down before poking his head out. "Listen, I know you guys are totally into each other and I respect that, but hurry the hell up. Let's go!"
Dave snickered, taking it all in stride (yes, puns). "You were saying?"
Karkat screeched, looking like he wanted nothing more than for the world to swallow him. "That fucking bastard!"
"Keep it down, will ya, Karkles? You're attracting the neighbors. We seriously don't need the cops coming here anymore. There's only so much Terezi and her mom can do to keep our fine Strider asses outta jail."
The shorter stared up at him, eyes twitching. "I seriously hate you both. I hope you two rot in whatever hell you fear most."
"Love you to, bro."
- Be Dirk
"Does this guy even know we're coming?" He asked, lying across the backseat, arms crossed behing his head. "I mean, if this guy's in as much trouble as he is, he wouldn't want people coming to see him."
Karkat's shoulders stiffened. "That is actually why I didn't tell him that we were coming, One word about what we're doing and that fuckass clown would hide for weeks. So, no. I didn't tell him."
Dave flipped open his phone. "Won't he be mad at you for this?"
He's a clown?
"Gamzee will get the fuck over it."
Karkat's vocabulary seems very limited...or at least his nicknames for people are anything but creative today. I was looking forward to so choice insults here. "You're such a good friend, Karkat. You truly are. I can see why everyone clings to you so much."
His brother chuckled. "Glad you see the light, Dirk. Karkat is nothing but love and kindness. Such a joyous glow that leads to blindness..."
"NO!" Karkat's arm shot out, smacking his hand over Dave's mouth. "No. Fucking. Rapping! Please?! I've even lowered myself to begging to your egotistical ass. So, motherfucking PLEASE, no more rapping."
Dave paused. "Fine. So, why're we going to the park? Is your friend confused or something? There is nothing remotably suitable to paint on, so I got to be believing that you are taking me on a date. I know you must be feelin' mad love for me, I mean begging and all, but going the park is cliche even for your ROMCOM ass. Should I be sereneding you with some sick rhymes of my undying love for you to put the icing on this matrimonial cake? Should I be preparing myself for our future children and some random ass cat? We doing the whole 'American Dream' thing with the white picket fence or we just gonna wing it?"
Dirk glanced over at Karkat in pity, the poor kid having to suffer through his little brothers flirtious teasing. If Dave would stop being a fucking wimp and confess to Karkat, all this awkwardness could be avoided. He groaned. I'm starting to woder if this was really worth it. Suffering through Dave's poorly disquised advances and lame pickup lines.
Okay, maybe he was still a bit bitter about his recent breakup, but come on. Dirk thought this one sided flirting was just sappy, even to his romantic ass.
"Strider, I swear to god that if you don't shut your goddamn mouth, I will pull this car over and kick your texan, rapper ass until your ancesters and your future offspring feel it. You will feel my rage at its fullest if you don't. Be. Quiet."
Not missing a beat, Dave replied. "Damn, you're into some kinky shit, wanting my ass with such fiery passion that you'd be wantin' my past and future selves feeling it. Love you to, Karkat."
"Oh, my god. You are such a piece of shit, Strider." Karkat groaned, banging his head on the steering wheel as he stopped at a light. "Why am I doing this myself? Why did I agree to this?"
"Because you're feeling the Strider love. Just accept the feels you're always going about."
"I do NOT talk about FEELS! Now shut up and be serious for one, goddamn minute." Fuck, finally. "You guys have to fucking promise not to mention Gamzee to anyone else. I really don't want to get the guy flipping his shit."
He sighed. "Then why are you introducing us?"
Dirk glanced up at the rearview mirror, noticing the other blushing. Though the glare only made it worse. "None of your fucking business."
How kawaii. This must be some messed up attempt to woo my little brother. Shame he doesn't seem to realize that the lil man's pretty much wrapped around his finger anyway.
"Besides, I think it'll do that bastard some good to have some people to talk to that aren't completely delusional."
All this talk about Gamzee is only making me more interested in meeting him. I mean, a delusional clown. It's not everyday you meet one of them. Well, outside the circus...and time square. Oh, and comic con. "You seem awfully protective."
"Shut up." Karkat turned into the park in quesiton, finding the parking lot empty. "Come on."
"Where's his car?"
"He doesn't have one."
He frowned, stepping out of the car. "But if he's working out here, how does he carry all his stuff?"
"Uh, on his back? The hell if I know how the asshole gets around." Shorty glanced around. "Come on, I think he mentioned something about being over at the smaller park on the other side."
"What exactly are we looking for?" Dave questioned, glancing around the picnic tables and tennis courts. "You got a description for us or something? Help us out, Karkles."
"Stop calling me that, damn it! Just look for a 6 ft tool in a gaudy purple hoodie." Karkat quickly made his way to to the large fort fixtures and swingsets, expecting him and Dave to follow.
Dirk stared at his brother. "Your friend's a bossy little shit, ain't he?" Dave shrugged, follwing the other. "What is even here to paint anyway? The fort?"
Karkat frowned. "I think Gamzee mentioned an igloo. What the fuck could he be talking about? It's May for godsakes."
Dirk perked up. "Ah, yeah. He's probably talkin' about the dome thing that kids can hide in near the tunnels. I guess it could look like an igloo."
Dave glanced over. "How the hell do you know that?"
"Had to drag your punkass outta the thing a few times. I guess you forgot that this is the place I took you to a lot."
The younger Strider to in the surroundings a little more closely. "Huh? It looks smaller than I remember. Where the hell is the merry-go-round?"
"They tore that piece of junk down years ago, lil man. You busted your skull too many times on the damn thing."
"Bro, you wouldn't know about bustin' skulls, riding those rocking animal things. Hogging the rickety ponies from the kids."
Karkat looked ready to murder them. "Can we please stop fucking around on memory lane and find that piece of shit clown. Dirk, where's the fucking dome thing?"
"Not too far, Shorty."
Dirk ended up leading them away from the main section of the park, to the more secluded area where families throw parties for their kids or for yound adults to hog the basketball courts. The smell pf painted loomed in the air as the cound of spray cans filled his ears. And lo and behold, he caught sight of the man in question.
Sort of. The back of him anyway.
The dome itself was nothing more than a 7ft tall, hollowed out stone with footpegs here and there for kids to climb on. A small hole that now seemed impossibe for him to fit inside anymore allowed children to crawl in and hide from their parents. And crouching on top must be Gamzee.
The man had his back towards them, spray can shaking in hand as he continued focusing on the spot he was working on. Wearing an oversized purple hoodie with the hood pulled over and a pair of dark blue jeans, he looked outta place in a kiddie park.
Karkat stepped up. "Hey, Gamzee." The man didn't respond, painting away. "Oi!" Still nothing. Karkat reached down and grabbed a rock, chucking it at Gamzee. "God damn it, you fuckass! Turn the fuck around this instant!"
What the hell kinda friend is he?
The stone connected with the guys bkack, the spray can dropped from the mans hand as he rose his hands over his head. Dirk bent down and collected the can. He frowned. "Good going, Shorty. He thinks he's being arrested."
"Gamzee, you fuckass! Turn around!"
"Is your friend deaf or something?"
Ever so slowly, Gamzee twisted around, arms still raised. All three of the males stiffened as the others face came into view. The mans' face was completely covered in an old fashioned gas mask, bulky air filters with small port holes for the eyes.
Dave leaned over to Karkat. "Can he even see us in that thing?"
The supposed clown slid down, slowly standing at his full height. Fuck, he's tall. Standing over 6ft tall easily, he made his way over to Karkat, who had frozen in place. Stopping right in front of the shorter male, towering over him, the stranger leaned in close. KK snorted. "Damn it, Gamzee. Get the fuck outta my personal space!"
Gamzee tilted his head, as if confused, before reaching for his head. Pulling it down to show an giant set of neon pink headphones, barely visible though his shaggy black hair. I totally want those. They are the shit, fuck.
A low, muffled voice filtered through, with a slight southern twang. "Hey, Karbro. What's up, motherfucker?" The man immediately hugged Karkat, shocking the brothers when the shorter only put up minimal protest. "What'cha doin' here, my motherfuckin' miracle brother?"
"Put. Me. The fuck. Down." KK gritted through his teeth, pushing against the clown. "What the hell are you doing here anyway? Isn't there some unsuspecting wall for you to desecrate?"
The tall man rose up, ignoring the smallers complaints about the paint covering his shirt. "Okay, I was just walkin' by here, looking for a motherfuckin' spot for my next project, when I smacked right into this here rock." He state, patting the stone in emphasis when he finally set Karkat down.
Dave stepped back beside Dirk. "You think he even realizes we're here?"
He shrugged. "Probably not, but this is getting good. Look how pissed off this guy's making your lil friend."
The clown spread his arms wide. "So, I was all like 'this park's boring as fuck.' It had no motherfuckin' color. So, then I got it all up in my thinkpan-" He pointed at his head. "-that I should bring some miracles to the kiddies."
Karkat sighed. "This is a public park. Someone is bound to find you."
Gamzee laughed. "Not this section, they're doing some construction a lil' further in so this spots been motherfuckin' quarantined."
While Karkat started renting about how everything the other was saying was messed up, Dirk did a slow scan of the stranger. On first glance, he just looked like everyone else. But he oculd see some of the thins that most wouldn't notice. With the sleeves rolled up, he saw bandages wrapped up from his wrist to forearms. The knee's were torn off the jeans and appeared too big and frayed at the ends.
His forearms were thin.
He looked dirty.
Dirk glanced over to where a tattered bag lay on the ground, can of paint spilled out. The pockets were half fallen off, one strap gone.
"Hey, Karbro. Who're these motherfuckers?" Dirk returned his focus back, noticing that Gamzee had finally realized that the brothers were there. His whole posture stiff.
Karkat grabbed the clowns sleeves, as if to make sure the other didn't bolt. "You know I wouldn't bring anyone that's going to call you out. These assholes are...friends of mine and were interested in seeing the asshole behind all the graffeti.
"A lot of motherfuckers are interested in findin' me, bro."
"Yeah, I know that. But I know these guys. They aren't gong to rat you out. I swear on your weird ass clown gods or whatever the hell you worship that you are not in any trouble. Yet."
The clown relaxed, shoulders slumping. "A'ight then. If ya motherfuckin' say fo." He held out a hand. "The name's Gamzee Makara."
Dave recoiled, not taking the offered hand. "Dave Strider, and I'll pass on the shake."
He reached out and grasped Gamzee's hand, hoping that he wasn't too offended by his brother, ignoring his own OCD complex about cleanliness. "Dirk Strider, I'm the one interested in your work."
He could only guess if the other was grinning behind the mask or not. "That's all motherfuckin' flatterin', bro."
Dirk held up the can, taking note that when Gamzee reached for it, his hand veered a little too far to the left beofre righting itself. "Gotta give credit when it's due.:
The clown chuckled, his sholder shaking slightly. "Least you think so. Now, not trying to be a rude motherfucker, but I got to get back to work if I be wantin' to finish before the sun makes itself known." He walked over to Karkat, patting the others head. "You should come visit a brother more often, Karbro."
"Did you just seriously get paint in my hair?"
"Uh...my bad, bro." Gamzee quickly made his way back to the dome, slipping the headphones back over his ears.
"God, damn it. I gotta get out of here before I fucking murder you. Come on, Strider. Dirk, you coming or not?" Dirk watched as the man made begin spraying again. He's not even wearing shoes...
"Bro?"
He waved the two off. "Nah, I'm going to hang here for a bit. I'll find a way back home later." He didn't watch as his brother and Karkat leave, only continued to observe Gamzee working. Taking a seat at a nearby bench, he decided it best to hang back so he didn't distract the clown. Why does Karkat call him that anyway? He wear makeup or does he know circus tricks.
He stretched his arms over the back, getting comfortable. Hope he doesn't think I'm being a creeper. As the sound of the spray can continued to fill the air, one last thought shot through his mind before he began to doze off. I wonder if I can get that mask off...
. . . . .
"Fuck!" Dirk had fell asleep. For three hours. Well after midnight, he wasn't surprised to see Gamzee gone. He groaned, throwing his head back. "Man, I was gonna ask if he wanted a job."He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Just as he was about to light upm he heard the a spray can. Huh? He looked around, not finding the clown anywhere. "Where..."
The blond stood, making his way over to the dome. He thought the clown had only painted it like a green blob, but the closer he got, the more the detail became apparent. Gamzee must've been going for a grassy hill; spots of colors turned into enticate flowers in different states of bloom, small insects placed here and there. It was something so small and unnoticable, but all the little detail really brought it out.
Gamzee could've done something amazing that everyone wold take notice of, but instead want with something that wouldn't. This most likely wouldn't get on the news like his previous works, but he guessed that was never the guys' intention.
Maybe he's on the other side...
Making his way around, Dirk almost tripped over the pair of feet sticking out of the entrance of the fixture. Crouching down, he could hear the muffled whistling coming through the clowns mask as he worked.
What the hell is he doing...there's no way he can see. He rose, dusting off his pants. I wonder if he's eaten yet. He doesn't look like he eat much as it is. A trip to a nearby sandwich shop and nearly getting hit by a car later, Dirk found his way back to the working clown.
He kicked Gamzee's foot. "Hey."
Gamzee's leg jerked, before his muffled voice shouted. "I ain't doing anything, officer."
Dirk didn't even bother to reply, knowing that the clown most likely still had his headphones on and simply stepped back and waited for him to crawl out on his own. It's a wonder how he hasn't been arrested yet.
Gamzee pulled his feet in, his head soon popping out. Headphones down, the clown paused whenhe caught sight of the blond crouched before him. "Uh..."
Dirk waved. "Yo."
"Uh...hey, motherfucker. Whatcha all up and doing here? Didn't you leave with Karbro?"
He shrugged. "Thought I'd hang out here a bit, you know. See what you got goin' on." When Gamzee continued to stare up at him through the mask, Dirk held up the bag of food. "You hungry?"
"Uh..."
I guess a complete stranger suddenly offering food is odd..."Just get the hell outta the hole, clown." He guess Gamzee snorther, before crawling from the dome andrising to his full height.
Dirk made his way back over to his bench, gathering the contents from the bag. "Not that I'm not motherfuckin' grateful an' all, but why?"
He looked up when Gamzee's voice came out clear for the first time, finally giving the blond his first glimpse of the others' face. I can see why Karkat calls him a clown. If the white and gray facepaint were anything to go by. The males face was slightly thinner than it was probably supposed to be, showing the sharp angles in his cheeks. His hair slightly covered his eyes which were a pale blue, brow arched high in confusion.
He's really thin.
Dirk stared up at the man, honestly confused himself as to why he was acting like this. He didn't even like people in general, so why take an interest in one of Karkat's friends who looks homeless?
He shrugged. "Does it really matter? Call it my good deed of the day or something. So get your ass over here and eat your fucking sandwich."
The clowns laughter filled the air, making Dirk somewhat smile. "If that isn't a motherfuckin' threat if I ever heard one. But I'll take it as a miraculous kindness to my new art lovin' friend."
Friend? The blond pondered over the notion as Gamzee took a seat next to him. Sure, why not. Seems like a nice enough guy and Roxy's been nagging me about being to anti-social anyway.
"Hope you're good with turkey." He said, holding up a sandwich.
Gamzee snorted, taking the offered food. "You live like this motherfucker, you can't be picky about shit."
Fuck, he is homeless, ain't he... As the man took a bite, Dirk didn't know how to respond. A guy younger then himself was living out on the streets. Wait, maybe he's just poor...maybe he's not living out in some cardboard box somewhere with some makeshift sign and a tincup. He sure as hell hoped that was the case.
"So, what exactly are you doing inside the dome?"
"Oh! I had this motherfuckin' awesome idea..." Gamzee exclaimed, grin spreading from ear-to-ear, eyes glowingnw8th childlike glee. "...so, yeah. Okay. I motherfuckin' painted the inside black and took my special glowing paint I gots and painted all these motherfuckin' stars everywhere! Total bitchtits, right? You wanna see?"
Bitchtits? Dirk set his food down. "Stars, why?"
"Whelp..." The clown gazed up at the sky, grin softening. "...this motherfucker thought it'd be nice for the little dudes and chica's to see a sky filled with stars. Can't really see the motherfuckers in the city, with the lights an' all." He spread his arms over his head. "So I wanted to give them some during the daytime. Sweet, right?"
He seems like such a nice guy. "Hmm." He took a drink from his cup. "You're a pretty interesting guy, doing all this. Trying to bring something nice to a bunch of kids. What made you start graffeting anyway?"
Gamzee's brow rose. "You a nosy motherfucker, aren't you? Aw well, guess wantin' to know about a brother isn't all bad." He stared back up to the starless sky. "This motherfucker's got no reason for doing what he does. Just love bringin' some color."
How is he able to afford all the paint?
"Hey!" Gamzee's suddenly barked shocked him, bringing his attention back to the clown. "I haven't gotten a good motherfuckin' look at your face yet." He stated. "Since I answered your questions..." Not really. "Can ya give a brother a closer looksee?"
"Can y...can you not see me?" He questioned, honestly suspected the other was visually impared but not to such an extent that he couldn't see his face 3ft away.
The clown shrugged. "Veeery near sighted."
"But how do you paint the shit if you can't really see?"
Gamzee paused. "Miracles, brother. Motherfuckin' miracles. Now gimme your face." He demanded, reaching towards Dirk with expecting hands.
"Uh..." Dirk was a person known to not liking physical contact in general, so this was definately forcing him from his comfort zone.
Gamzee grinned. "Don't leave a bro hangin', motherfucker. Let me see the man who decided to treat this motherfucker at the asscrack of dawn."
Thinking it'd be best to humor the man, he allowed Gamzee to grasp his face. He closed his eyes. The pressure from the clowns palms pressed against his cheeks while long fingers managed to stretch over Dirk's ears and through his hair. He was a little nervous when the clown pulled him closer, eyes closed as to focus completely on touch, giving Dirk the chance to see the damage to Gamzee's own face. Three long, distinct scars going across his face, from the left side of his forehead to the lower of the right cheek.
Something clawed at his face.
The scars managed to overlap both of his eyes, most likely being the reason for his faulty eyesight. He imagined that Gamzee's eyes must've been much darker prier, because the color gradually faded as it neared the pupil.
Gamzee's thumbs ran over his cheek, the tips gently hit against his shades. "I ain't gonna ask a motherfuckin' brother to take off his shades. Figuring you're wearin' the things in the dark an' all for a reason." Dirk remained silent as the hands continued to glide over his cheeks, his brow, even through his hair. The clown chuckled. "I can tell you're a handsome motherfucker, I'll give ya that." He pulled his hands back, grinning. "Shame you picked a bench without a light, woulda loved for a better view."
Dirk blinked. "Did you just feelup my face just for the hell of it?"
"Nah, bro. This motherfucker really just was getting a feel of what ya looked like." Gamzee stood, brushing crumbs from his lap. "Now, I gotta get back to work." He started digging through his pockets. "Uh, now how much do I owe you for the food? I ain't gonna leave ya hangin' bro."
He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Just take it as a token for spicing up this dullard place."
Gamzee frowned, clearly not happy. "You sure, Dirkbro?"
"Finish whatever you doing and we'll call it even. Deal?"
The clown snorted. "Well, since you seem so motherfuckin' adament about it. Thanks." He turned, pulling on his headphones and mask again. Just before he crawled back inside the dome, he waved goodbye to the blond.
Dirk gathered up the mess. Before he left, he stepped over to Gamzee's tattered bag and set down a couple bottles of water and the extra sandwich he bought.
"No problem, bro.
- Be Gamzee
He stood, wiping the sweat from his brow as he insecped his work. He knew it wasn't going to stand out like most of his other projects, but that wasn't what he was going for. He just wanted to make the little motherfuckers happy when the park reopened. He glanced around, his blurred vision taking in the rest of the playground.
Maybe I should come back and motherfuckin' tweek the rest of it. Make it all motherfuckin' friendly and shit.
The clown gathered all of his supplier, throwing away the spent green spraypaint, slung his bag over his shoulder and went on his merry way. He started thinking about Karkat, confused by the sudden interest in letting his friends meet him. Karbro's never done that before. The guy always complained about what he did, how he lived. So why show him off?
He sighed, running a hand through his knotted hair. "Confusing ass, motherfucker."
His and Karkat's relationship has been...odd, to the say theleast. Being best friends from damn near birth to junior year of high school, the two stopped talking after Gamzee had an 'episode' and hurt some of their mutual friends. Really bad.
It wasn't until he was 22 that they begun talking again, after Karkat found him completely fucked up in an alley after being homeless for more than a year. Gamzee's boyfriend at the time had kicked him out after admitting to having feelings for another, and his old man had disowned him after he had gotten together with the love of his life. He didn't want to bother his older brother, who had just gotten married. He had no friends. Karkat hated him.
He was completely alone.
So, here he was, 24 and still homeless.
But he was doing better than before. He was off drugs now, system completely cleaned and everything. He did make a little money doing odd jobs here and there, doing performances on the side when there was nothing lined up. Karkat was talking to him again, so that was a plus. Even letting him use his shower and crash when he needed it.
He even made a friend...sort of. He was an old man who had started taking care of him when he was at his worst in the early months of his depression. The man never gave him his name, so Gamzee just called him Gramps. The man was probably in his late sixties or so, stringy grey hair and bread to match. He always wondered how the man came to be there, but decided against asking.
Gamzee pouted. Three years with the old bastard and I still don't know the motherfucker's name. But he still cared about him, none-the-less. Taking care of him now as Gramps did for him.
Turning down the familiar streets that has been his home for the past few years, littered with bars and strip clubs and the like, it was the perfect place to be if one didn't want to be found. Or to be forgotten. It was the ideal place Gamzee was looking for when his life went to hell. Prostitutes along every corner, dealers in every alley. Yup, this was home.
Passing by some familiars, earning some calls and waves from the girls he talked to, exchanging pleasentries. He liked the girls, they were kind to him when he first arrived, at his worst, even feeding him. Though at the time he hadn't appreciated it. Now though,he tried his best to keep them safe whenever he could. He didn't ignore their screams, like when he...
Gamzee shook off the dark thoughts, heading towards his 'home'. Well, what Gramps and him called home anyway. He grinned, catching the sight of Gramps blanketed body and his usual glare. He waved. "Heeey, motherfu-"
"What have I told you about your foul language?"
He snickered at Gramps. "Sorry, can't seem to break the...uh, habit." He trutted over, taking his usual spot on the man's right, pulling the contents of the bag out. I gotta thank that motherfucker again for this. "Here ya go, Gramps. Time to get your grub on."
"Stop calling me that, you lil' punk."
Gamzee laughed. "What am I supposed to call ya then? I sure as...heck not gonna call you 'sir'. We're passed that." He sat back against the wall and watched as the man unwrapped his food. "So, anything happen while I was gone?"
The old man sighed, setting his food down as his eyes saddened. "Two more girls started. Much too young, there never seems to be a shortage of idiots that end up here, thinkin' that there isn't anythin' better for 'em but this hole."
He was silent for a moment, processing the old mans wordbitch s before replying, tiredly. "Life's a bitch that way, I guess."
"Gamzee."
"Sorry."
Gramps reached over and clutched his shoulder. "It doesn't have to." He paused, hand grasping tighter for a moment before taking it back. "Get some sleep. You've been up now for three days."
He pulled his knees up slightly, drapping his arms over them. "Gotta make ends meet."
Gramps barked out a laugh, though it sounded hollow to the clown. "Kid, you ain't got any ends to meet. Now listen to your elder and sleep. I may have one foot in the grave, but don't think I can't make you."
"You probably could." Gamzee's eyes took a long sweep if the streets they lived on, watching the girls make their way home, shops begin to open while the bar began to close. He slid down the wall, aligning his back against it was he curled his arm under his head. "Well, good night then, Gramps."
"You mean, mornin'"
Gamzee chuckled, pulling his hood over his eyes. "Whatever works for you."
He didn't feel the old man pat his hand comfortingly. "Sleep well kid."